


fic: sweet little wishes (and sweet blue dreams), lost, alex/richard

by crickets



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-05 02:49:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crickets/pseuds/crickets





	fic: sweet little wishes (and sweet blue dreams), lost, alex/richard

_ **fic: sweet little wishes (and sweet blue dreams), lost, alex/richard** _

  


Alex walks down to a free concert by the water on a gray afternoon. She disappears into the crowd, finds a spot where she can see, digs the toes of her boots into the cool gravel, and looks toward the sky. There's thunder overhead and Alex closes her eyes and prays that it will rain.

Richard promised her there'd be rain here, but a month goes by and there's hardly a drop. It's dry season as it is, and the man on the news keeps calling it unprecedented, keeps promising another beautiful sunshiney day.

Alex hates him for it.

"Patience," Richard will say, his fingertips brushing her hair to the side, lips finding her bare shoulder.

She leans against him, gives a slight nod. "I know," she says. And after all, each day in this life is better than what was in the last one. She remembers how things were before. How they all went wrong, a bullet to the head when her father makes a choice. But not this time. Richard's made sure of that.

The bearded man on stage quietly strums the first few notes of a tune Alex thinks she recognizes and pauses to say something into the microphone about the rain gods up above. He sings his song and the skies open up like somebody was listening, like a trade for the show.

Alex stays for the entire set, feeling the heat of the rain-drenched crowd, watching the steam rise into the air when they move with the music.On her way out, she buys the bearded guitarist's cd at a table under a blue tarp, shoves the plastic-wrapped treasure into her soaking bag, thinks Richard will like it.

She takes the long way back to the apartment, steps in puddles, resists the urge to take a bus or hail a car. The rain stops for a while and Alex dries out underneath the shelter of a cafe porch, drinks a cup of tea, pulls the cd from her bag and examines the cover, pretends not to notice the young green-eyed man a few tables over, watching her. By the time she arrives at their building, the rain is falling once more.

Alex drops her bag by the door and finds Richard in the bedroom, fresh from the shower, his hair sticking out, fresh jeans still unbuttoned, a white t-shirt clinging to his yet dry skin.

"Got wet today," she says, slipping her hands around his neck, her fingers through his damp hair.

"Told you," he says, kisses her, slipping his tongue against the roof of her mouth. Alex groans slightly, uses his shoulders for balance and wraps her legs around him.

"Let's go upstairs," she says, throws her head back as he kisses her neck.

She hops down and Richard follows her through the apartment and out the door, chasing her up the stairs in his bare feet, Alex still in her boots.

Once on top, Richard catches her waist with both hands, turns and presses her against the door of the roof, the thick rain coming down in sheets now, soaking his shirt, falling onto their cheeks, making it hard to see. She can feel him hard against her stomach, gives a throaty laugh against his ear, kisses him, bites gently on his bottom lip.

She puts enough distance between them to push her wet jeans down to her ankles and kick them off with her boots, not an easy task, before reaching out to Richard's open fly, her fingers working to free him. Richard supports her when she wraps her legs around him and presses into her using his strength to keep them up, the slickness of two wet bodies making this a dangerous task.

Richard whispers something in a language she doesn't know and Alex remembers the first time she heard those indecipherable words. A day spent unprotected from the rainfall of the jungle, her back pressed against the trunk of a tree instead of a metal door.

She clings to the back of his shirt, lets him guide them, closes her eyes, and thinks of that day.

Afterwards, when they're dressed again and the rain has stopped, Alex sits tucked against him in a corner of the roof, fiddles with the loose threads at her knee, doesn't remember how her jeans got ripped.

"Do you miss it?" She asks him, something they never really talk about.

"Do you?" he says.

_-fin_


End file.
